


First Love

by Mansaeboysbe



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-24 01:58:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16171268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mansaeboysbe/pseuds/Mansaeboysbe
Summary: Three times Jimin thinks he’s fallen in love, and the first time he really has.





	First Love

**Author's Note:**

> -Admin Mari

The first time he thought he had fallen in love was in kindergarten.

It was in a small classroom with large and colorful floor mats and all sorts of drawings, paintings and coloring pages covering the walls. Giant windows allowed natural light to fill the space and he remembered the ceiling being really high, but he supposed he had grown since then.

He had sat across from this girl his age with big, round eyes and pigtails sitting precariously on the top of her head; her rainbow hair ties always seemed to loosen after a game of tag. She was quiet and kept to herself and was probably the best in the class at coloring within the lines.

Her parents had sent her to school with brand new crayons packed snugly into her neon pink backpack. Her bag was also uncharacteristically organized for a six-year-old and there never seemed to be a paper out of place. In truth, it had made him self-conscious of his own dark red backpack that had stickers all over it and supplies practically spilling out of the pockets.

While the other boys were rowdy and couldn’t sit still, he was quiet, sitting in his seat and listening to the teacher to try and impress this girl. He wanted her to see that, unlike the others, he could be mature. She never seemed to notice, though, and he tried to think of every reason why she would possibly ignore him. He never figured it out.

Again and again, he tried to get her attention but when one week of sharing snacks and giving her drawings turned into two, he began to falter in his actions, crushing disappointment settling onto his shoulders in a way that no six year old should feel. His mother had become concerned with the way the time he spent playing slowly thinned out at home and even his teacher noticed how he distanced himself from the other children.

As he grew up he realized that was why his imagination ran wild. During the day he would zone out at recess and playtime and, on occasion, he would busy himself with random toys, coming up with stories for them and simply deterring everyone from joining him in his little corner by the cubbies, his safe space.

At home, he hid in his room until dinner was ready or his mother came in to sit beside him on the bed, cradle him to her, and ask what was wrong. Even at that age, he had understood that letting her know what was really wrong would have raised eyebrows. So he would make up excuses, probably sounding like a whiny brat.

A few weeks later he finally felt that he could look at the girl without his face turning an embarrassing shade of red. He allowed himself time to play with some of the other boys, however, he preferred his own adventures.

He became happier at home as well but he could tell that his mother hadn’t let the situation go as she would card her fingers through his still wet hair from his bath and ask how his day was. At the time he thought she had found out, now he knew it was simply mother’s intuition.

The year ended and he had finally moved on, although still keeping to his own company.

The second time he thought he had fallen in love was in seventh grade when all his friends had decided that girls were okay and should not, in fact, be kept at a ten foot distance. He had opened up in that time, becoming more sociable and approachable. And although he had become much more playful and comedic, he never disrespected anyone or abandoned his studies.

Combine all that with a fairly acne-free face and a broad smile and all the girls were pining for him. It was rare for girls to not walk him to class; he accepted the challenge to entertain them, however, he couldn’t help but feel bad that they all seemed so smitten with him when he didn’t return their feelings. He turned every girl that confessed to him away, explaining his thoughts and letting them down gently.

He hadn’t held an interest in love until one day he began to notice a girl with straight black hair and bangs that hid her eyes when she looked down. She was incredibly sweet, helping anyone who needed it, smiling at everyone who passed her in the halls and always giving everyone the benefit of the doubt. She saw the good in people and he loved that. He loved her. He was sure of it.

But he had only noticed her after his best friend began dating her.

The rest of the year he spent looking through both sides of a two-way mirror. He was looking through the clear side and seeing his best friend and her, isolated from them, caught up in a torturous rapport. But he could see the mirror too, looking at himself and imagining her at his side rather than his friend’s.

He hated how much he thought of her and as a result, he took a step back, averting his eyes from the mirror and cutting off his relationship with both of them, a repeat of before, but this time he didn’t allow himself to disregard others completely. He found solace in a new friend group and by the time high school approached, he had decided to transfer to a different school than the rest of his classmates.

The third time he thought he had fallen in love was in his last year of high school. He had moved to an all-boys school, which probably should have irked him like the others, but he was surprisingly okay with it.

For the first time in a while, he could study without his mind constantly plagued with thoughts of the social ladder or a need to impress everyone, mostly himself. His social life was surprisingly still very much alive. He had a tight-knit group of friends who kept him from rotting away inside his home.

They would drag him to parties on the other side of town, out of the light of parents eyes, and each night was a blur, polaroids, and vague conversations the only signs that what had happened was real.

By the fifth party, he started to notice a wallflower with her hair dyed purple, feet clad in combat boots with fishnets crawling up her legs like vines. Her outfits changed from party to party but her dark color scheme remained the same. He would exchange words with her in between songs. However, after he accidentally kissed her as he was leaving one time, they never seemed to be apart.

He didn’t remember asking for her name but it didn’t matter since “baby” and “love” would have taken its place anyway. They would sneak out to meet each other on school nights and as the summer heat bled into their days, they spent every waking hour together.

Until one day, after a particularly scalding hot August day, she just up and left. He spent the rest of the year trying to remember if she had said something about leaving but no matter how hard he tried to excavate a memory of such an event, none gave him an answer.

All of this led to now. The first time Park Jimin really fell in love.

He had met in her in his insanely difficult literature course and had fallen in love because of more than just how she presented herself to the outside world.

(Y/n) had broken his stupid cliche barriers until he could see her smiling on the other side, offering a hand out to him. Jimin had certainly felt hesitant at first but in the end, he knew that he would always fall for her, no matter the circumstance. Because every moment they spent together kept his heart pumping fast and the butterflies in his stomach fluttering.

Everywhere he looked in their apartment there were memories.

In the entryway, he would brush her hair back, pull her scarf up and kiss her forehead with a featherlight touch before bracing himself for the cold of the weather and the world outside. She squeezed his hand as he paused, a hand on the doorknob, assuring him of her presence and support.

When he moved into the living room he could hear her laughter, like the ocean, ceaseless but only sometimes quiet. It never failed to bring a smile to his lips and he did everything in his power to constantly make her giggle. He could see all the times she had welcomed him from the couch, her hands on the back as she sat with her knees on the cushions, peeking out at him over the top with her eyes crinkling at the sight of him.

He pushed to the bedroom, where he would make up all sorts of stories about how they would travel the world together and do things like slaying dragons. The most romantic of dates in his mind. Her head was curled onto his chest as he leaned against the headboard of the bed and sang her quietly to sleep each night so he had time to himself. In those moments he would recount the stories he never had the nerve to tell her. The ones where he tried to not tear up as she walked down the aisle and both of them would laugh as their children bounced on their bed early to wake them up. The ones where they grew old together.

Jimin stepped back and retreated to the kitchen. He could feel the temperature drop as the memory from a few weeks ago crashed over him like a tidal wave. All he could feel was the tightening of his throat as he remembered her tears and her anger as she raised her voice as if she wanted him to hear. He didn’t understand why he hadn’t listened to her in the first place because it wasn’t the first time she had asked. It wasn’t the first time he had yelled at her, but it was the first time she screamed back before her voice dropped to an eerily quiet level. One of resignation.

Tears blurred his vision and he gripped the doorway for support. He had told himself that everything was a nightmare as she walked out the door, that he would wake up, breathing heavily and scared out of his mind but that (Y/n) would be there to ease his worries and run a hand up and down his back soothingly.

But today he had walked in to find all of her shoes gone from the entryway, all her books, and CDs were gone from the living room, all her clothes and jewelry gone from the bedroom. He hadn’t bothered to check the bathroom since he knew all her makeup will have vanished like her.

Instead, he stood still, drawing further into himself. He had spent his fair share of time feeling upset after someone he thought he loved denying or leaving him. He thought he could deal with this one too. But this was how he knew that she was the first one he had really loved, he hadn’t ever felt such crippling pain with the other girls. No one had managed to suck all the air from his lungs and leave his limbs wobbly.

Because with her, he didn’t have to wonder. He would never have to imagine why she didn’t like him, what could have been or the reason she left.

Everything he needed to know, he knew from the key she left on the kitchen counter.


End file.
